Oh Yeah
by RyDeNiSlOvE
Summary: James goes a bit too far during a concert. Kendall can't take it anymore. Slash, a bit of plot.


**Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck. You guys have no idea how much I hate this. I did not know how to end this at all.**

**AT ALL.**

**So sorry. I don't hate all of it, just...the last…third. And…the rest of it. Sigh. My writing gets worse every day. And I'm using all the same words. Bigger sigh.**

**Enjoy. Or don't. Tell me whether you do or don't. Every time you don't review, a kitten dies. Because I kill it in my rage. So do it. :) **

James always looked fantastic. Always. He looked gorgeous when he was sick, he looked gorgeous when he'd just woken up, he looked gorgeous after he'd been half-eaten by vicious rabid animals Carlos had let into Gustavo's mansion. _Always._ It kind of pissed me off. And the fact that, despite his natural beauty he felt like he had to spend hours getting ready so he could look as appealing as humanly possible. I had a secret notion that it was to make up for his childhood years where he was a bit, well, not 'the face'.

In any case, the times when he tried (and succeeded) to look his absolute best were for concerts, and honestly, at those times, it turned me on. I figured that was normal, since my best friend was hands down the most attractive guy I'd encountered, and anyone with any sense whatsoever would want him. It was unavoidable that I would have this impossible thing for him, so I just kind of held it back when I was around him and controlled myself and everything was normal. It didn't change anything between us.

Except suddenly, one day, one concert, he just kind of whipped that self-control away.

"No, it's too….it needs to be more, up more. Hairspray. No, it can't be this way."

I rolled my eyes at James' constant complaining to the poor hair people, who were trying to put up his usual bangs, still going to his left but revealing his forehead this time. The chick doing his hair reluctantly listened to him, James closing his eyes and frowning as she sprayed the bangs with a copper-coloured can. I watched his pouting face and his girlishly long eyelashes, kind of captivated, until my hair lady wrenched my chin so it was facing the mirror again and continued blow-drying my damp hair, brushing it into the position she wanted.

I stared at myself in the mirror, honestly not caring enough about my appearance to appreciate the meticulousness of her styling. Like, I cared what I looked like, but I thought my hair had looked fine when I left the apartment that morning. However, my hair _never_ looked fine once I went into hair and makeup. Go figure.

She finally finished my hair, after painstakingly long efforts to make it look exactly the same as before, and I excused myself, getting up, having a bundle of clothing thrust into my arms before I exited the trailer. Walking in the direction of my dressing room backstage, I occupied myself during the odyssey across the parking lot by examining the outfit I had to wear. There was a blue and white tie-dyeish t-shirt, black jeans, and an obnoxious-looking belt, but it wasn't bad. It seemed like I always got the simplest clothing, which I was very happy with. They often gave Logan, James, and Carlos vests and jackets and boots and things that I could for sure do without.

I got to the dressing room I shared with James (apparently Big Time Rush wasn't important enough that we got our own dressing rooms) and quickly put my new clothes on, standing in front of the full length mirror and admiring myself for too long before going over some of the choreography for our newer songs. I knew it all, better than the others probably, but I still wanted to practise, practise, practise, and be sure. If anything I didn't want to fuck up the moves because Gustavo would have me drawn and quartered for something like that.

James entered the room loudly, touching lightly at his hair trying to make it absolutely impeccable and humming the melody to our final song for the night, "Oh Yeah". I smiled at him, running my hands through my hair and pushing it out of my face.

"You ready?" I mumbled in his direction, smoothing out my jeans and watching him change in the large mirror. They had given him an outfit similar to mine, him also in black jeans, a t-shirt (red and black and better than mine, of course), and ridiculously shiny and expensive-looking shoes. He took over the mirror once dressed, ignoring my question and ranting on and on about his hair, but I honestly wasn't paying attention to his complaints about how the hair lady was mistreating him.

Carlos and Logan barged in looking flustered and excited like always, telling us that we'd be on soon and leading us out of the dressing room. Once on stage, I got that initial pulsing of adrenaline, but afterwards I found it even more difficult than usual to focus on what I was trying to do. I let myself slip into muscle memory and instinct, repeating a mental mantra of _look at the fans, Kendall, not James, look at the fans, not James, fans, not James_.

I mean, usually, I was a little obsessed with him, but today he just looked extra pretty and it seemed like he was moving his hips just that much more. I was exhausted as we finished our penultimate song, a new one called "Every Time", choosing this time to thank the fans for their support, yada yada, before moving on to "Oh Yeah".

I heard James' voice next to me, saying "I love you," to the audience, and I knew it was to the audience, but it still made my heart beat faster because he was standing so close. I shuffled away awkwardly, not wanting him to make me lose my cool for no reason. Only one more song, which was fucking great because I was totally beat and sweating my little heart out by then.

After the introduction, it went into James' part, which he totally started belting out, making me start as I realised he was standing right behind me. He evidently thought it would be cute or funny or something to sing "what I gotta do to get you close to me" in the most horribly suggestive voice he could and slide his hips up against me while breathing "close to me" in my ear. I whimpered, glad I was holding my microphone down by my side.

I felt my face go embarrassingly red, not terribly amused with James' over-the-top performing and glancing down unsubtly to make sure my obvious boner wasn't too obvious. Carlos was smirking at me, but I ignored him, singing for my life to distract myself from my problem. However, the performance itself already had my blood flow way up and was so not helping.

I willed and willed the song to end instead, quickly thanking everyone and exiting the stage. The four of us gathered in Carlos' and Logan's dressing room, as was tradition, but this time I hurried instead to the furthest bathroom from the dressing room and threw myself into a stall as quickly as I could. Stupid, stupid James. I couldn't know what possessed him to be such a tease, but it was kind of both heaven and hell at the same time and I wasn't having any of it.

Finding myself alone in the bathroom at first, I unzipped quickly, sighing at the slight relief of pressure and hoping it would be a while before the wave of fans (the relative few males) came in. I shoved my jeans and boxers down, leaning against the wall and wrapping a hand around my throbbing erection, shamelessly replaying my little moment with James over and over.

I bit my lip, jacking myself off quickly, knowing it wouldn't be long until I was coming, amazed at the tremendous stimulation that James' retardedness had given me during the song. I stared at the white tiled wall across from me separating the stalls, before closing my eyes, breathing harshly and leaning back against the cold tile.

"Fuck," I muttered, trying to quiet my breathing at the sound of the door swinging open.

"Kendall? You in there?"

Shit. James. "Y-yeah," I replied, confident that I sounded normal as I yanked my pants back up, tightening my belt around the tip of my dick and hoping that flipped up and out of the way it would be as inconspicuous as possible. I flushed the toilet for effect, coming out the stall and avoiding eye contact with James as I washed the guilt from my hands.

"You're missing out on the party, dude," he told me. I watched my reflection, letting my hands drip into the sink.

"What party, Carlos stuffing corn dogs into his mouth?"

"Drinks. Coolness. C'mon."

I finally brought myself to look at him, deciding this was a bad idea as my face and pants grew simultaneously hotter. I grabbed a paper towel from the white dispenser, drying my hands and tossing it in the trash bin before following James out the door. We walked back in silence, because everything I wanted to say involved me throwing him up against the wall and fucking him, and because he made no effort to converse with me.

The problem was how at-ease he looked. Didn't he feel even _slightly_ uncomfortable after practically molesting me in front of thousands of fans?

I breathed carefully, trying not to fantasise too much as we returned to the dressing room. I could tell instantly that it was Carlos' and Logan's room, because James was the only one of us that had any sense to clean up or not make a mess in the first place. Despite Logan's seeming uptightness, our room looked like it had been shelled, Logan's side no better than my own. And I considered myself second-messiest only to Carlos. Anyway.

They had all sorts of food out, the two temporary owners of the room looking as relaxed as possible on the couch. I took the enormous chair, leaning back and grabbing a bag of tortilla chips off the armrest. James seemed to be looking around the small room for seating options, sizing up the counter before turning to me.

"Hey Kendall, mind sharing your chair?"

I looked over at Logan and Carlos helplessly, who were taking up as much space on the already small couch as was humanly possible, before nodding slowly at James. He flashed me a blinding smile, sauntering over looking full of himself and squeezing in next to me. He wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me in and eating some of the chips out of my bag.

I grinned, feeling slightly better. James and I always acted super touchy-feely just because it was our thing, so there was nothing strange in his position, except maybe that I was feeling a little oversensitive still. I always got super hungry after shows, concerning myself with the chips and feeling the blissful tired buzz of the concert seep into my bones, almost heightened by the warmth of James against my side.

Kelly opened the door, poking her head in and smiling at us. "They're kicking you out in a little less than an hour. Be ready to go by eleven."

"Mmhmm," James responded. I nodded at her, Carlos responding with a small snore, his head on Logan's shoulder. I leaned into James a little, feeling like I could after his earlier display of affection. He chuckled at my movement, making me duck my head so he wouldn't see me blushing. Logan was mouthing something to James and he was smiling, Logan acting like nothing was happening as soon as he noticed me looking.

"What?" I demanded, James looking at me innocently.

"Nothing?"

I glared at him, folding my arms. If this was going to be a competition then I was going to win. "What. Don't act like I didn't see that. Tell me. What's going on."

James looked down. "Fine," he said, defeated. That was fast. "We were planning a surprise birthday party for you, but I guess not anymore. Since you're so stubborn."

"James, my birthday was two months ago. Nice try. What's going on?"

I narrowed my eyes at him, and he narrowed his eyes back, tilting his chin up defiantly and staring me down. Logan laughed out a "dude", turning our attention to him and breaking our gazes. James gasped, turning back to me. "You lost," he yelled, referring to our stare-off.

"No, you lost!" I argued, punching him in the shoulder playfully and fighting to keep a smile off my face. "You looked away first! Yeah!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yeah huh!"

We glared at each other, the corner of James' mouth twitching up into a smirk. He bit his lower lip, while I tried to maintain a straight face. Carlos made a small sound in his sleep, and although I wanted to look over at him I kept my eyes trained on James'. I realised we had silently entered into another staring contest, determined not to blink until we had to go back home.

"Champagne?" Logan interjected.

"Yeah, me," I murmured, extending an arm out towards Logan and ignoring the way my eyes watered from them being open too long. Logan laughed at me, pressing a glass into my hand. Without breaking eye contact, I took a sip of the bitter liquid, licking my lips and trying hard to focus. Which was a bit difficult when James shifted in the chair to look at me better, in the process moving his face way too close to mine.

I ignored the fact that the tips of our noses were almost touching, ignored the increasingly strong urge to just lean forward that extra couple inches and kiss the hell out of him.

_0000_

"What was Logan even saying to you earlier?" I asked James, turning away from the microwave to give him a skeptical look.

"Wouldn't you like to know," James mumbled through a mouthful of salad.

"Why are you eating that shit?"

"Someone's just full of questions tonight. I'll tell you what, let's play that question game, the lame one where I ask you a question, you ask me a question, et cetera."

"Ohoho." I smirked, sitting up on the kitchen counter, happy with where the conversation was going. "Okay. You first, I guess."

He took another bite of lettuce, looking up near the top of the refrigerator and thinking. "What were you really doing in the bathroom earlier?" I wanted to die when he gave me a meaningful look, an 'I know' look. My face went red, and I looked away from him.

"Going to the bathroom," I replied dryly, raising my eyebrows at James.

He obviously didn't believe me but nodded slowly, looking at me expectantly.

"What was with your gay little thing during 'Oh Yeah'?"

He laughed, almost choking on his gross vegetables and wiping his mouth before looking up. "Why, was there a problem? I was _performing_, dude. Sorry to get your panties in a bunch?"

"My panties were not in a bunch!" I argued indignantly. "It's just you don't usually do that. I'm pretty sure we're supposed to keep it G-rated for our fans, who are little girls, so sorry to question your performing which involves you raping me during our song."

Despite our debating, I could tell neither of us were that serious. James put his bowl off to the side, opening his mouth to talk but the beeping of the microwave interrupting him before he could. I smiled to myself, leaning over and taking my spaghetti-o's out of the microwave bare-handed like a pro.

I gestured to the bowl, grabbing a fork and digging into it. "See, good food. Not your shitty _salad_ excuse for food."

"Hey, guess what, I have amazing abs, because I don't eat shitty _spaghetti-o's _excuse for food. Dickhead. In any case."

"Mmhmm." I shoveled the spaghetti-o's into my mouth, finishing them too quickly for my liking and setting the bowl in the sink. "Logan and Carlos already in bed?"

"Yeah." He stared off into space, lips slightly parted and looking a bit confused.

"Something on your mind? You look….thoughtful…tired…something, I'm not good at saying things."

"Hmm? No." He blushed and looked down.

"Jamie liiiikes someone," I sang, making kissy faces and watching his face grow a deeper and deeper red.

"I do _not_. Well maybe just a little. But I don't think they like me back, so whatever."

"Are you kidding? How could a girl not like you, James?"

"That's the problem, Kendall, I…"

"You what?" I was genuinely interested. How could I have named a problem?

"Trust me. Everyone likes you. Look at you. Seriously, dude. You're fucking hot. No homo." I chewed on my lip, trying not to blush any more, because yes homo.

"I guess I have the same problem as you," I blurted before I could stop myself, immediately regretting it. "I wish he would quit being so oblivi- she. She. Goddamn it, Kendall." I covered my mouth, trying to disappear into the counter. I willed myself to just vaporise, and for James' memory to automatically erase. He was staring at me, open-mouthed, totally not buying that I misspoke.

I tried a sheepish grin, my eyebrows raised with the same kind of look I gave my mom when I was totally in trouble and I said something dumb enough to get grounded for another week.

"You like a dude?"

"Iunno," I muttered, gazing intently at the kitchen floor. "Sorry…if it's a problem…just… yeah."

"No. No. Kendall. I was…well, me too."

"What do you mean, you too?"

"I mean," he said poisonously, "that when I said I liked someone, it was a _male_ someone. I just never would have thought, you know, you…also…had the same…problem. So are you like…gay?"

"What? No! I just…it's just this person, I think." I finally brought myself to look at James, hoping hoping hoping he wouldn't ask who the object of my affections was. I was really not ready to tell him that.

"Oh, yeah. I'm not sure, either. I…like girls and stuff, still, but I guess I also like guys?"

"Yeah." I laughed a bit brokenly. "This got real awkward real fast."

"For sure! What do you say, late night baking adventure to lighten the awkwardness?"

"Yes, definitely." I smiled genuinely, glad it was James, my bestest friend ever, that I was having that kind of conversation with. With anyone else it would be super uncomfortable, way more uncomfortable than it was with James. Only he would just brush if off like nothing and suggest we make food to take our minds off the subject.

"I feel like chocolate chip cookies, but I don't know if that would compromise your precious abs," I teased, James smirking at me and rolling his eyes. "Do we even have chocolate chips?"

"We better." James looked through the cupboards, extracting a large bag of chocolate chips and making a 'success' gesture. He flipped it over and set it on the counter, reading over the recipe on the back of the packaging. "Okay…get…butter and sugar."

I did as was instructed, bringing the ingredients back to where James was standing and standing behind him with my chin on his shoulder. I saw his lips stretch into a smile, hands gripping the bag of chocolate chips as he examined the ingredients I had brought him. "Alright, I guess we need to cream the butter and sugar? You get the mixer and I'll get the rest of the stuff we need."

I measured out the butter and sugar according to the chocolate chip package, dumping it into the electric mixer and plugging it in. It went from there, everything going fine until the dough was done and I was looking for the cookie sheets, and suddenly a lump of something gooey hit the side of my face.

I grimaced and wiped it off, finding that it was cookie dough. James was so in for it. I whipped around to face him, immediately bringing my hands up to shield myself when I saw that he was holding a spoon full of cookie dough and pulling the spoon part back, about to fire. He grinned at me, his back to the refrigerator, letting go of the top and flinging dough across the kitchen. I ducked just in time, hearing the sound of the uncooked mixture hitting the wall.

"I found spoons," James explained, holding the bowl of cookie dough protectively. I glared at him for a moment, leaning back against the counter and waiting for him to stop looking at me. He looked down into the bowl and I seized the moment, lunging forward and pinning him against the refrigerator. I wrenched the metal mixer bowl from his hands, grabbing some of the dough and smearing it across his face.

"Bitch," he laughed, trying to get the bowl back from me but failing as I held it as far from him as possible, attempting to keep him against the fridge one-handed.

"You deserv-mmff."

I was cut off by a sudden pressure to my lips, automatically assuming it was James' hand before realising that _no it wasn't_. It was his _mouth. James was kissing me_. I was too shocked to do anything but stand there frozen and rooted to the ground, freaking out once I came to my senses and grabbing James by the shoulder. Not knowing what else to do, I pushed him back, still holding onto him.

We stared at each other, my thoughts trying to put themselves in order. "Did you…I….dude…James?"

"Uh huh." I could see how terrified he was, and I could feel how terrified _I_ was.

I inched closer, seeing how he would react, but he just kept staring, eyes wide and disbelieving. _He_ kissed _me_, I reassured myself, so he must have wanted to. Right? I sighed, closing the distance between us. He gasped in the moment before our mouths connected, my fingers tightening around the cookie dough bowl.

I felt his hand pressing into the centre of my chest, my heart pounding embarrassingly loud and fast against his palm. His lips slid against mine, breath hot inside my mouth. I pressed my body forward, wanting more of him, every different sensation equally intoxicating- the smell of him, the taste of him, the way he knew exactly where to go.

I pulled away, taking a deep breath and realising I'd forgotten about my need for air. "Fuck," I breathed against his lips, letting him tease me with shallow kiss after shallow kiss. "Should we…the cookies?"

He took the bowl from me, walking over to the counter and leaving it there. "Forget the cookies," he pressed, returning to where I was and standing before me.

"First. I wanna take a shower. If that's cool. I hate having gross food on my face."

"Yeah, me too."

I had a vague urge to mention _something_ about the kiss, and tell him it was incredible, but James wasn't speaking so I figured I didn't have to. I guessed it just kind of spoke for itself? We both knew it happened, and neither of us needed to reiterate anything. I sighed, heading towards the bathroom and shutting the door once James was in. I hadn't ever suggested we shower _together_, but if that was how James wanted to do it then that was definitely how I wanted to do it.

A bit disgruntled, I turned on the shower, waiting for the water to heat up. I stripped down quickly, then stepped in and under the water, pushing my hair back and rinsing the offending cookie dough off the side of my face. James pressed his body against my back, letting me lean into him. I watched his hands travel across my chest and stomach, amazed at how _different_ his skin felt against mine. I felt his hard length pressing against my ass, kind of surprised he wanted to just go right into all this, but I wasn't going to question that kind of miracle.

"Christ, James," I muttered, turning my head and looking over my shoulder to watch him for a moment before kissing him again. He grasped my chin, holding me there as his other hand slipped down to my dick. I broke the kiss, gasping as he gripped my erection. Wave after wave of heat overtook me, the hot water and steam of the shower and the California summer making it almost unbearable. "Oh god," I managed to breathe, James rutting his hips up against me until I pushed him back.

I ripped back the shower curtain, hit by the cooler air outside of the shower and stumbling forward with James' hand in my own. He had his hands on my hips before I knew it, pushing me up against the sink. I breathed harshly, bending over the cool tile and feeling the water from the shower running from my hair down my face and body. The shower still ran noisily, James' breathing quieter on the back of my neck.

"You okay with this?" he murmured in my ear, wet fingers already rubbing at my hole because he knew the answer. I nodded anyway, crying out when he pushed a finger into me, my slick hands trying to find something to hold onto on the sink but coming up with nothing. I pressed my palms against the wall on either side of the mirror, James' fingers going deep. I was almost too preoccupied with the sensory overload I was experiencing to realise the immense pain I was feeling inside, pushing my hips back and glancing at James over my shoulder.

"Slut," he laughed, removing his fingers (much to my relief) and reaching down to touch himself. I watched, entranced, my cock twitching against the sink where James was holding me.

"James," I hissed, hanging my head down and looking forward through my dripping bangs. "Just do it. Please."

"What'd you say?" he asked, feigning innocence. I turned halfway around, eyes fixed on James' hand and the way it was moving.

"I said to fuck me," I whined, growing more and more impatient. Although I knew it would surely hurt, bad, I was for some reason desperate to have him in me.

"Huh?"

"James."

"Yes."

"Please fuck me right this instant."

He grabbed a random bottle of lotion, or soap, or I really didn't care from the counter, squeezing some into his palm and slathering it over his dick. "As you wish," he said through gritted teeth, pressing forward into his fist before entering me slowly. I didn't know what to do except stand there and whimper, so that's what I did, James placing both hands on my lower back once he was all the way in. I closed my eyes, pretending it _didn't _burn with the fire of a thousand suns and waiting for him to move, to do _something_.

I called out his name when he did, the shower doing nothing to drown me out as I lifted my head up to look in the mirror. I watched James, his hips snapping forward repeatedly and his eyes closed with his lower lip between his teeth. "Oh, fuck," I whispered, resting my forehead on the cool countertop and letting James be in total control. He slowed for a moment, stopping entirely and sliding his hands over my shoulders.

"I- ahh," he explained, "Sorry. I'm…really…close."

He started up again at an excruciatingly slow pace, reaching around to grasp my dick and jack me off as well. His ministrations forced a small sound out of me, the still slippery hand increasing in speed as he started ramming in faster and more forcefully. I jerked forward violently and nearly choked on nothing when he changed angle slightly, feeling a burst of sheer _awesome_ exploding inside me. I pushed back insistently, his hand on my cock feeling so much better with him hitting my sweet spot with every forward motion.

His thrusts grew less measured and more jerky and irregular, fingers digging into my hips as he came with a shaking moan. He stayed inside me, hand still going until I climaxed as well, pushing my face into the wet counter to the side of the sink and trying to breathe properly again. "Shit," I mumbled into the tile, my body aching with the force of our activities and my mind whirling with the day's events.

"You're the best," James told me, and I lifted my head to look back at him. Frowning, I turned around from my spot between him and the sink, pressed chest-to-chest against him and finding myself amazed with the stunning realisation that this was pretty much all of my dreams and fantasies ever, actually happening. Half of me thought I was about to wake up, but the other half of me knew a dream couldn't leave me feeling quite as fulfilled as I was. I stared at James, kind of trying to say all this without saying anything at all, letting him kiss me gently with his arms around my waist.

"I…we…" I realised I didn't know what I was trying to say, feeling like a fool and swallowing. "Yeah." I blushed madly, making a small, futile attempt to disconnect myself and put some clothes on and go on with my night without acknowledging my stupid feelings for the boy hanging onto me securely or being stuck not knowing what to tell him. However, James either didn't notice or didn't want to let go, smiling at me and kissing me again. I looked at him longingly for a moment before uniting our lips again, opening my mouth and holding him in a deep liplock.

"Were you gonna say something?" he asked me when we broke apart, his hand on the side of my face, strangely loving.

"I…uh…no."

"Okay." He let go of me, stepping back and leaving me strangely cold and empty. I sighed, finding my jeans and stepping into them as he wrapped a towel around his waist and went for the door.

"Wait, yeah. Was it me you were talking about earlier? The guy who would never like you and all that?"

I watched him nervously, and he turned around, hand on the doorknob. "Yeah," he admitted, turning pink with embarrassment. "Was I…"

I nodded and he stopped, the both of us avoiding eye contact.

"This is so dumb," he finally said after the both of us standing motionless in the bathroom. "Look. I always know what to say around girls, because I'm good with this stuff, but I don't know how to say things to you because you're so great and I don't want to…be an ass…I don't know…guess I really like you." He mumbled the last part, looking completely humiliated, which I found kind of cute.

"Well I really like you too," I said almost inaudibly, feeling retarded because I knew there must have been a better way to phrase that that didn't make me look stupid and cheesy. I flipped my damp hair back, breathing in slowly and staring intently at my feet.

"Kendall…you're my best friend, so I don't know how to ask you out and…"

"Yes." I didn't want the horrible awkwardness to stretch on any longer. "I would love that. Just. Come here."

He looked entirely relieved, doing as I said and stepping up to me in the same way he had earlier in the kitchen. I smiled, taking the lead for once and pressing my lips to his. "Thanks, man."

"For what?"

"For being stupid during our show. For having the balls to actually make a move earlier. Everything. I'm so glad I can stop…creeping from afar and creep up close instead."

He kissed me again. "This is really sappy."

"Yeah. But. Yeah." I blushed, my fingers resting on the rolled up edge of his towel. "Come on, let's get to bed."

I took his hand, lacing our fingers together and leading him out of the bathroom, happy.


End file.
